


The ghost of a smile

by happybibliosaurus



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Spooky, no character deaths but they are ghosts ...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 05:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybibliosaurus/pseuds/happybibliosaurus
Summary: Bucky hated being a ghost.Well, that was until Clint Barton appeared.





	The ghost of a smile

**Author's Note:**

> A very tiny fic for this week's Mandatory Fun Day prompt. Short but sweet, I believe is the phrase.
> 
> Not beta'd.

  
Everyone forgot to mention in the stories how much being a ghost sucked.  
  
Bucky hated the afterlife.  
  
It was monotonous, void of excitement, intrigue and hope.  
  
Days passed endlessly in greyscale, without much to distract him from the fact he was stuck here forever. Forever spent haunting this tiny forgotten graveyard, hidden behind the tottering rundown red brick towers that made up that part of Brooklyn. Nothing to distract him from the fact he was alone.  
  
He often wondered if being captured by the Nazi’s might have led to a better fate than this. At least he would have been alive, instead of being tormented by his loneliness for eternity.  
  
He hated being a ghost with every inch of his transparent, disembodied being.  
  
Well, that was until Clint Barton arrived.  
  
Clint Barton - a ray of sunshine in his dark cold life. He lit up the graveyard with his beaming grin, chaotic enthusiasm and his unending chattering.  
  
Not that Bucky would wish this existence on anyone else but having Clint around made the prospect of eternity as a ghost slightly more bearable.  
  
\---  
  
Clint had just appeared one day, sat in the large oak tree the squirrels made there home in, and had immediately complained loudly about the lack of coffee, stirring Bucky from his brooding about his damn non-life.  
  
“Pal, there’s no coffee when you’re a ghost.”  
  
Like a petulant child, Clint had folded his arms and glared over at Bucky. Bucky had noted his fine physic; muscular arms, tall and messy blonde hair.  
  
“No coffee, what the fuck!?”  
  
“You find out you’re a ghost, and that is your first remark?”  
  
“Yep, and I stand by it man. What kind of fucking afterlife doesn’t have coffee.”  
  
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing. This is no heaven, punk. There’s no coffee, no beer, no one else, no fun.”  
  
A lesser man, ghost, whatever, might have faltered at Bucky’s harsh realities, but that wasn’t Clint. He didn’t even blink an eye at finding out this was it for eternity. Instead, he had given Bucky a once over, winked at him, that beautiful smirk of his resting on his cold lips. There was a glimmer of laughter in his eyes as he answered Bucky back.  
  
“Dude, you are dead to me.”  
  
“I’m dead to everyone. That’s how the afterlife works.”  
  
\---  
  
Unlike Bucky, Clint seemed to enjoy what his existence had become. He floated from gravestone to gravestone, making up stories about the residents and cracking jokes to Bucky as he went. When the odd people entered the graveyard, teenagers on dares, students looking for somewhere quiet to drink and make out, Clint took great joy in playing pranks on them and scaring them away,  
  
He kept Bucky company, telling him stories from his life – tales of circuses, spies and aliens – and Bucky had marvelled at how much the world had advanced in the last 70 years. From a distance, he had watched the skyline change, and the noise of the city grow louder, but the pull of his grave prevented him from exploring the city it had become. Clint happily filled him in, gesturing wildly, and always beaming to his fullest extent.  
  
Clint also kept Bucky up to date with what Steve had become – somehow the damn punk had managed to crash a plane, get frozen and wake up 70 years later, and work alongside Clint to fight various invasions from space. And oh, the Nazis were back.  
  
The only time Bucky had seen Clint’s endless energy diminish was when a golden puppy had jumped over the graveyard wall, chasing his bright red ball, tail wagging with joy. Clint had been initially delighted, excitedly floating over the creature, but as soon as he stuck his hand out to pet the damn thing it went right through the dog like nothing was there. Clint’s smile had cracked ever so slightly, his eyes saddened, as the dog unaware of him bounded back away from them.  
  
At that even Bucky’s cold, hardened heart had softened, and he had pulled Clint in for a hug and savoured the feeling of having Clint beside him.  
  
  
\---  
  
“How do you do it, Clint?” Bucky had questioned one day, as the floated above the holly bushes. He was having a rough one, his left arm twinging in a way which he didn’t think a ghost’s body should. But how would he know? There wasn’t a manual for being a ghost.  
  
“Do what?” Clint had replied, staring up at Bucky.  
  
“How do you stay so enthusiastic? About this? We have no existence, no bodies, no hope for what’s to come. Yet you’re always as delighted with each night as the next. Why don’t you just give up? We have nothing to look forward too.”  
  
Without a pause to think, or even considered his response, Clint replied, his eyes not breaking contact with Bucky’s glare.  
  
“Well, that’s just not true, Buck. I get to look forward to a forever with you.”  



End file.
